


In the Twenty Fifth Year of his Life

by Caepio



Category: Ancient History RPF, Julius Caesar - Shakespeare
Genre: Antony probably wouldn't, C.P. Cavafy, M/M, Morning After, Period Typical Attitudes, and then forget, or find a more direct approach, or find a way to turn it into more sex, or he'd say he would, or lose interest, possible extortion, sudden explicit anecdotes, thwarted extortion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-07 06:32:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18615076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caepio/pseuds/Caepio
Summary: The morning after something which Was Not Supposed to Happen.





	In the Twenty Fifth Year of his Life

**Author's Note:**

> He tries, of course, not to give himself away,  
> but sometimes he almost doesn't care.  
> Besides, he knows the hazard he risks,  
> and has resigned himself to it. It's not unlikely  
> his kind of life will bring him ruinous scandal. 
> 
> C.P. Cavafy "The Twenty-Fifth Year of his Life"

“Are you leaving already?”

There was a heavy, unbreathable kind of light in the room. The dust of back rooms and storage. Where else could something like this have happened? Brutus was already pulling his clothes on, lacing his sandals. “Why should I stay?”

“It’s barely dawn.”

“Yes, and I think that’s best, don’t you?”

Antony was sitting up now, Brutus could barely make out his expression, all the light from the one window fell on him, glinting off his belt as he clasped it. 

“So this was a one-off was it?” Antony’s smile twisted like he was restraining laughter, like he found Brutus’ behaviour, his reticence and secrecy, entertaining. Why not? Everyone knew how little Antony had cared for secrecy in the past.

That had been the whole problem, really. That's where this had begun. It had been appealing to Brutus, for a moment, to act like he didn’t care either. In that moment, he hadn’t. He’d been too angry. And that really was the only way this could have happened. And it was another very good reason not to continue it, Brutus thought. They would always be fighting. 

A one-off? “Yes. I think it was.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me to keep quiet about this?” Antony inquired, still smiling.

Brutus felt his spine tense, somewhere between anger and apprehension. “Do I need to?” 

“I could destroy you with this. Old men don’t look kindly on young men playing women.” The light was starting to burn up the room, Brutus could see him now, as he laughed, “I would know.”

It sounded as much a threat as anything Antony had struck him with in the past; the edge hidden behind his ease. Though never with a bed between them. And never with something like this at stake. 

_Ignore it._ Brutus thought, forcing his breath to be even. _No reason I can’t keep this secret without having to ask. I know how he works._

He looked Antony in the eye, tilting his head to one side, “That doesn’t really seem _our style_ though, does it?” He smiled slightly, teasing seriously, "Don’t tell me you’d rather drag my name through the mud than fight as we should, on the field.” 

Antony’s smile sharpened. It was a smile Brutus knew, and not one that worried him. It was direct, sure of itself, and delighted by a challenge. It was the same smile as the night before, when Brutus had slammed the storeroom door behind them, pushing Antony against the wall, biting at his lower lip till he tasted blood, pressing his body against his like he’d seen others do, desperate like he'd seen _women_ desperate, leaning into the press of Antony’s hardening cock against his hip. 

That smile was a kind of victory. It was private. It was personal. Something between just the two of them. He’d never seen him look like that at anyone else. 

Antony laughed, leaning back against the wall, strong, and sure, and insufferable. “Didn’t think you’d ever want to go back to war.” He said. And: “Armour doesn’t really suit you.” 

Brutus responded acidly, glibly, straightening the folds of his cloak, thinking — _Just wait. Watch what I’ll do. Watch me astonish you. Watch me be worth a fight._

His thoughts ran on in that vein, but he wasn't concerned. His heart rate slowed to a normal pace - as normal as it ever was when he was alone with Antony. The real risk was gone. Whatever Antony might say, however they might fight, that smile was a promise. Whatever came next, this would always be just theirs. 


End file.
